An Education
by scifiromance
Summary: Seven decides she needs to widen the scope of the Borg kids' education and experience, and she knows who to ask for advice and help... Set immediately after 'Ashes to Ashes' S06xE18. One-shot.


**A/n: I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.**

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Chakotay frowned dispiritedly down at Tuvok's security report, hardly cheered by the brief, and wholly logical, addendum at the end which declared succinctly that 'the Kobali are no longer to be considered a significant threat'. Tell that to Harry. Frankly, it was depressing how minutely Tuvok had assessed 'Lyndsay' as a security threat in the first place, she'd wanted to re-join Voyager, not inflict revenge, but then maybe Tuvok had just misjudged the _direction_ of the threat, not the size of it. Part of the reason he was still sitting in his office, grazing from a dish of mixed fruit and nuts rather than eating a full meal in the Mess Hall, was because experience had taught him to expect an influx of emotionally and spiritually shaken crewmates.

That flood had yet to hit him, and maybe he'd forecast wrong. The crew of Voyager were used to mind-boggling events by now. For God's sake, Harry had submitted an Ops report today as smoothly as always, just after the Kobali had reclaimed his semi-resurrected friend and long-term crush. Chakotay shook his head wearily and pushed Tuvok's report aside after bestowing the requisite signature of oversight, reaching for Harry's before his courage failed him and he redirected his hand to grab another handful of nuts. His eyes began to scan the PADDs spread over his desk for something more palatable, disconnected from the events of the past couple of days, but as they found nothing of the sort they began to drift closed. He shook his head irritably, pressing a rough palm against his haggard face. Hot food. A good book which didn't mention space travel. Bed. No, scratch that order, bed first and foremost. Who was he kidding? It was only just 2000 hours, and he'd be working through until the smaller hours. He _could_ take his work with him back to his quarters, it had once been his regular practice since it wasn't as if he particularly liked this office. But no, he'd put a stop to that, he deserved a place reserved for real downtime and it looked like his quarters were going to have to be that place for the foreseeable future. Deciding to make them sacrosanct had been a tiny act of rebellion, a mental bucking motion against the bureaucratic role that had been carved out for him. Damn it, he'd wanted to fight everything after the Equinox…debacle. But it hadn't seemed worth it. He wasn't deaf to the comparisons that had been made by the whispering lower decks, that Ransom was to Janeway what Seska had been to him. All the big issues between them had been condensed down into petty ones over time, as was inevitable in the daily grind. Out of all of them, it was this refusal to take his work 'home' with him that persisted.

Something between a sigh and a wry chuckle escaped him as he considered this, his… _contrariness_ (how apt). It would be just like him to hamstring himself to spite Kathryn, a spite she would never notice. Grudgingly, he picked up a PADD, brightening a little when he recognised B'Elanna's no-nonsense writing style; this would provide him only with information he needed to know. He wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, he had probably been projecting his own unease onto the crew when he'd thought some would need to talk. It wasn't as if reincarnation, or the concept of past lives, was new to him, such ideas dominated Eastern traditions on Earth and was a relatively common thread of thought throughout disparate worlds in the Federation and beyond. Yet, the Kobali's concept of it, their reality, was so _visceral_. One of his fallen crewmates had been desecrated, not only disturbed but transformed. The Kobali woman had been haunted by Lyndsay's ghost, but she was Kobali now and should be. Maybe Lyndsay had just found a more certain afterlife than the rest of them could expect… He shuddered despite himself at the thought. What would his spirit guide say about this? Laugh at him probably, murmur something cryptic… A dark chuckle of his own escaped him as he tried to shrug it off.

The ring of the doorbell cut sharply through his sleepily rambling thoughts and he straightened in his chair, lifting his elbows off the desk. "Come in!" he called, a little more gruffly than he intended.

Seven strode purposefully inside, seemingly stopping at a precise, pre-calculated distance from his desk as the door swished closed behind her. But then, Seven always had a martial air; an initially intimidating march even as the sway of her very feminine hips was occasionally disconcerting. She tilted her golden helmeted head ever so slightly towards him, blue gaze as yet unblinking. "Commander." She greeted him simply.

"Seven." Chakotay tried to suppress the urge to brace himself, but it was instinctive. He could count on one hand the number of times Seven had been in this office over her years here, and there was always a serious and/or out of left field reason for her visits. As much as he still allowed himself a private chuckle now and then over that initial visit, where she managed to both entirely misread and completely nail Harry's intentions and thoughts respectively, he felt fresh unease settle in his gut. It was with a heady cocktail of relief and exasperation that he felt his shoulders slump as he saw the collection of PADDs gripped in her mismatched hands. "If those are fresh reports from Astrometrics, you can either leave them here or I'll just collect them from you there in the morning."

Seven regarded him inscrutably, "The latter option would be our usual practice Commander." She replied, surprised to feel her palms growing a little damp around the PADDs she held. Perhaps she should have delayed approaching him, looking at him now she was almost ready to abandon her unlikely but oddly appealing idea. He was so tense, his powerful body hulking over that small desk. Much of it was likely down to bad posture, which she could advise him on at a more appropriate time, but she also sensed that he didn't revel in his office as much as the Captain did in her Ready Room. She supposed the Ready Room was a mark of status, while this austere space was the touchstone of the Commander's disciplinary role. "These are not Astrometrics reports…" She explained, indicating her PADDs while being unable to stop her eyebrow from quirking slightly at the sight of his overwhelmed desk, "…but if you wish, I can write an update for you and deliver it here…"

Chakotay smirked at her, by now able to tell when she was being arch. "There's no need...obviously." He assured her, glancing down at the desk himself as he rose up from behind it, feeling a little embarrassed that he'd been so dismissive of her after giving himself so many pats on the back for being on standby for those who might wish to talk to him. "Sorry, I was in a bit of a rut." He ran a hand through his hand then rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "What can I do for you?"

Seven hesitated, momentarily distracted by analysing the brief feeling of…disappointment she'd experienced at the thought of him not coming to Astrometrics in person for her reports as usual. She hurriedly put the feeling down to a dislike of change; and however much she often appreciated the solitude of Astrometrics, his daily visits were short and undemanding shots of company. Well, not always undemanding. It was his insight from the day before that had got this 'ball rolling' so to speak, in her mind in the first place. "Firstly…" She found that she had to swallow, even as her voice dropped marginally in volume, "…I wish to thank you for denying my request to relinquish my guardianship of the children…"

"Seven." Chakotay cut her off softly. Her gaze, which had unconsciously drifted to the floor, shot back up to his face, "You don't need to thank me for that." Seeing that she was about to protest, as it had been a genuine request, he changed tact, rounding the desk to start to close the yawning gap between them. "But since I've never been thanked for _denying_ a request before, maybe I should take it when it comes."

"Yes." Seven agreed unthinkingly, causing Chakotay to have to bite back a small chuckle. Did she realise how easily that could be construed as tactless? From the red that gradually dawned on her cheeks, he assumed yes, but she said nothing more. Certainly not a word about whatever was 'secondly'.

As the silence lengthened, Chakotay decided to fill it, saying encouragingly, "Were you able to bring a little spontaneity into the fun you had scheduled?"

"You were right Commander, fun cannot be scheduled." Seven answered honestly, "And when it occurred, I was not the one to introduce the spontaneity, Mezoti was. However, this time I did nothing to restrain it."

"That's good Seven." Chakotay told her warmly, "I'm sure that approach will make things a little easier."

"I concur." Seven agreed again, though she shook her head thoughtfully, "Although now I am left with a crude representation of my head in clay."

Chakotay blinked at her, wondering if he'd misheard somehow. "I'm sorry? A clay what?"

"Representation of my head." Seven repeated, "I can assure you that it _wasn't_ the assigned task, but Mezoti explained it was more fun. I decided it was…wiser to encourage her creativity and individuality, no matter how unexpected a course that might take."

Chakotay smiled at her widely, "I'd say that was wise Seven." He assured her sincerely, but then struggled to keep a straight face as a novel thought occurred to him, "What do you intend to do with this clay head then? Or does Mezoti have a plan already?"

Seven smiled to herself, an expression which softened her strict features considerably. "She presented it to me, perhaps as amends for the disorder she enjoyed so much." She shrugged slightly, meeting his eye wryly, "It seems appropriate that I follow the apparently established tradition of 'proudly' displaying children's artwork."

Chakotay burst out laughing, particularly shaking with much needed mirth. "Sorry…" He gasped out as he caught his breath, "I'm just thinking of all the art I must've foisted on my relatives throughout my childhood."

Seven arched an expectant metallic brow at him. "And as a child, were you glad they upheld the tradition?"

"Very much so." Chakotay replied, serious again before smiling at her encouragingly. "I'll need to come and see it in the Cargo Bay."

"The children would like that." Seven murmured, then pushed herself to assume her most business-like stance, her initial reason for approaching the Commander returning to the forefront of her mind. Chakotay subconsciously picked up on the shift in mood and shuffled back from her. "Commander, I have something to ask of you."

Chakotay looked at her in concern, and a little trepidation. "Go ahead."

Seven took a deep breath, "I intend to alter my approach to the children's education, to make it as close to the Federation standard as possible. I am hoping that you can assist me in this."

Chakotay stared at her for a moment, "But Seven, I'm pretty sure that you are teaching up to a Federation standard, if not higher. Those kids are… _gifted_ , just like you are, and I know that you must've conducted exhaustive research before you started…"

"I did." Seven confirmed, "But still, my approach is flawed, as you pointed out." Despite her bluntness, she shifted uncomfortably, "Influenced by the Collective's mentality."

Chakotay sighed, "I didn't say that…" Seven shot him a pointed look and he reluctantly backpedalled, "Well, I did, but I only meant that you should ease up a little, give the kids some breathing room. You have, and it worked. I'm happy about that, but that doesn't mean you should throw the baby out with the bathwater and change everything about what you've been doing." He saw her brow plucking over the idiom but she was still listening so he pressed on. "Por Dios Seven, you've had four traumatised children dropped in your lap, anyone would have serious teething problems if they were able to cope at all. How well they have been doing is down to your efforts with them and how much they adore you."

Seven dipped her head. "I appreciate you saying so." She said quietly.

"It's the truth." Chakotay told her firmly, gently touching her shoulder to pull her gaze back up to his. "I'm sorry if what I said, with the best of intentions, really hurt your confidence."

Seven shook her head, "Do not concern yourself on that account. You, and the children, merely made a fact clear to me. They require a wide scope of stimulation, both educationally and socially." She sighed softly, "As broad as my knowledge base is, I cannot teach them everything."

"Nor would you want to." Chakotay murmured thoughtfully, "That's too heavy a burden. What did you have in mind?"

Seven appeared uncertain for a moment, "I would like to emulate a school environment as much as is possible on Voyager. I have spoken to Ensign Wildman and she is very keen that Naomi also have that opportunity."

Chakotay could certainly understand where Sam was coming from, and was glad, though not surprised, that Seven had included the Wildmans in her plans. Naomi's schooling had always been patchy, her rapid rate of maturity coupled with the spurts of chaos on Voyager had ensured that, getting adequate supervision for her over the years had been difficult enough. Seven had taken her in hand somewhat over the past few months, at least where mathematics and the sciences were concerned, but it was hardly enough. "It's a great idea." He told her warmly, "But I'm not sure why you're making _me_ central to it Seven, I'm not a teacher…" Beyond those few years of training up raw colony recruits to fight the Cardassian Wars for Starfleet, he remembered darkly. Seven saw him rub the back of his neck again, a habitual gesture when he was apprehensively thoughtful, he also laughed awkwardly, "I graduated high school nearly thirty years ago…they change something about the education system every two or three years…" Saying all this made him feel really old, the fact that Seven had probably been born around the time of his high school graduation even more so.

"No one on this ship has a teaching background." Seven reminded him, unperturbed, perhaps with the unspoken rebuke that _she_ hadn't attended school at all. "Excepting Tuvok, but he taught Starfleet cadets, not children, and besides, his teaching style is perhaps too close to my own."

Chakotay had to give her all those points. "You're right." He conceded.

"The Captain approves of this new approach." Seven continued, "She said that anything to enthuse the children about learning, rather than assimilating information would be good."

"The Captain is involved with this plan?"

"Beyond approving it, no." Seven answered, "But when I advised her that I was going to seek to include you in the project, she acceded to my judgement."

Chakotay frowned. That didn't exactly sound like a ringing endorsement.

Seven must've read his misgivings in his face, "She was pleased I suggested you." She told him obligingly, "She said you were a good choice, that both of you love to learn but that without her high-pressured educational background you would bring more balance." She could hardly blame the Commander for these questions, the Captain was known for being very involved. But the Captain, and the Doctor for that matter, had kept their input to an absolute minimum where the children were concerned. The more cynical part of her suspected this was a test of her supposed 'maternal instincts', they were assessing her development, but mostly she hoped they trusted her. It wasn't that she wanted them deeply involved, she knew better than most that they'd likely not be able to stop themselves 'taking over' and she wanted the children shielded from such pressure to rapidly adapt, but that didn't mean a little advice couldn't have helped. Commander Chakotay had, thankfully, proven himself to be both objective and helpful.

Chakotay was irritated with himself that he felt mollified, even as he wondered what to make of that. Was that some veiled comment about colonial education? No, he'd had enough conversations with Kathryn over the years to gather that she'd been a serious overachiever, pushed and groomed by her parents to single-mindedly pursue success. After her father's death, it had become something of an obsession, to the exclusion of everything else, he knew she regretted that. Still, he wondered if lecturing an ex-drone about the perils of a pressured environment might be both laughable and tasteless. "You really want to give the children a rounded education? More like I had? Like any child would have?"

Seven bristled, "There is no reason they should be denied that, just because…" She trailed off.

Chakotay again quickly touched her arm in reassurance, "I know, I know. But it'll probably mean days which are less densely packed. If we're going to vary their subjects and teachers we'll need to work around different shifts…" He smiled at her then, "Which is why you came to me isn't it? Because I organise shifts?"

"Yes." Seven admitted, "But you also have a wide array of interests yourself and are well acquainted with those of our crewmates."

Chakotay accepted this for the high praise it was. "I'll try my best." He glanced down at the PADDs in her hands, "Those are your ideas?"

Seven nodded, "Some of them." She regarded him somewhat shyly, "But perhaps if we are working together, we should formulate those ideas together."

Chakotay grinned at her, making her cheeks feel ever so slightly warm. "Of course." He agreed. Despite his initial bemusement and hesitation, Seven had judged him well, the ideas that had been stirred in him at the thought of teaching the kids things that had enthused him and generations of kids before him were now speeding through his brain. "Let's take a seat." He suggested, gathering the reports off his desks before looking around for a chair. Other than his own at the desk, there was only the small casual chair that matched the couch shoved against the room's main wall. Though he knew Seven rarely sat, and it was hardly adequate, politeness made him drag it off until its feet hit the desk. Seven watched this manoeuvre as if he'd gone crazy, but after assessing things, decided to bite the bullet and take a seat. The chair was so low to the desk, and Seven so long of limb, that for a moment she looked rather comical, until that is she perched on the edge and gripped the desk to regain her dignity, setting her own PADDs down and looking to him expectantly. "Right…" Chakotay cleared his throat, "I presume you'd still want to take mathematics and the sciences?" She nodded swiftly. That was a given, really only Seven could exceed as well as match the knowledge the Borg children had. "And you can adapt that to include Naomi some of the time?"

"All of the time." Seven corrected, "Naomi is already a part of those classes, though I adapt much of the material for her."

Chakotay nodded in approval, "And what about the _social_ sciences?"

Seven sighed, "Their knowledge is factual, and limited to what the Collective considered relevant." She pursed her lips, "I will admit I have been…uncertain of what to teach them in that regard, since my knowledge has been similarly restricted in the past."

"That's understandable." Chakotay told her, "It's a very broad range of disciplines. We'll need to give it more thought than just tonight. In history alone, there's pre and post Federation, and all the different worlds and cultures that involves…"

Seven gave him a small knowing smile, "I assumed you would want to lead history, at least in Pre-Federation topics, because of your interest in palaeontology."

"And anthropology and archaeology." Chakotay added with a chuckle, "But I've been warned before that I'm prone to going on boring tangents…" He trailed off, then laughed, "Hey, you're meant to deny that!"

"The children would redirect you if that became the case." Seven assured him calmly, a tacit agreement on his 'boring tangents'.

"Lieutenant Andrews did his Bachelors in post-Federation history and sociology, I'm sure he'd help on that side."

"Lieutenant Andrews from Security?" Seven checked, "I do not know him well…"

"He's Ayala's closest colleague and best friend, a good man, and less prone to tangents than I am."

"You can ask if he's willing?" Seven asked softly.

"He'll do it." Chakotay said confidently, "And I think he was a debating champion too, that would be good for the kids."

"You want to encourage them to argue?" Seven questioned incredulously.

"Not argue." Chakotay countered, "Debate issues, understand both sides."

"A reasonable point." Seven conceded, "But once they begin to argue, it is difficult to get them to stop without implementing a punishment protocol."

"Seven, maybe you should just call those protocols 'time out' or something." Chakotay advised her gently.

"Probably." Seven agreed with a sigh, "I'll consider it."

Chakotay was satisfied and moved on, "What about literature?"

"That is also very broad." Seven said tiredly, "And not my area of expertise."

"I suggest Marina Jor and Mar Javin, they're two of the most widely read people I've ever known."

Seven thought of the good natured quarter-Betazoid Maquis woman and the quiet, serious older Trill man. "Yes, it would be good if they would agree." She realised then that, with himself included, Chakotay had perfectly balanced their teacher roster with Starfleet and Maquis crewmembers. She wondered if that was a conscious decision, or an ingrained habit born of earlier difficulties.

"Have you thought about sports on the holodeck?" Chakotay asked curiously.

"The children get their advised allotments of physical exercise." Seven replied defensively.

"I wasn't saying otherwise, but sports build good sportsmanship and healthy competition, and they're _fun_."

Seven glanced at him sharply as he emphasised that last word. "It is difficult to find sports which take five players of different ages and abilities."

"In the holodeck, they could play with holograms." Chakotay pointed out.

"They will not always have holodeck time, the twins especially are…hyperactive. They need something to do in the Cargo Bay."

Chakotay was stumped by that requirement. "Uh…dodgeball?"

Seven frowned, "Isn't that violent?"

"Not…really." Chakotay answered hesitantly, then let himself laugh, eyes twinkling at her. "That's kind of the fun of it." He gave into her unconvinced expression, "Okay, maybe balls bouncing off the Cargo Bay's walls isn't a good idea."

"No." Seven confirmed succinctly, "We'll ask them what they want to play on the holodeck."

Chakotay smiled at her fondly, she was learning quickly. "That would be the best plan."

Seven sat quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "Commander…do you think we could involve Ensign Kim in some way? I think he needs a distraction."

"He does." Chakotay agreed quietly, "Are the kids interested in learning musical instruments?"

"They could be." Seven murmured, "But if the Doctor wasn't deeply involved in their music, he'd be…"

"Miffed." Chakotay finished, "But then he's already teaching them biology."

"We'll prioritise Harry." Seven decided firmly.

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 **A/n: Please review.**


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